


The Melody and the Entergetic Nature of Volume

by toxicNeurosis



Category: Gorillaz, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: And Noodle's still tiny and adorable and can't speak English, And saw that no one else had done it so I did it, F/M, I dunno I've been playing a lot of Pokemon Y lately, Kinda a spoiler alert for Pokemon X, More like a lime fic I guess kinda, Oral Sex, Reader is or is older than 18 but younger than 22, Set during phase 1 I guess, So Russ and D are in their early twenties and Murdoc's still in his early thirties, bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicNeurosis/pseuds/toxicNeurosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If immortality means being hailed as an unwitting hero for the rest of eternity when he really didn’t do anything, 2D isn’t sure he likes immortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Melody and the Entergetic Nature of Volume

**Author's Note:**

> Been playing a lot of Pokemon Y lately, which I was finally able to purchase this past June, and saw that no one else on here had done a Pokéverse AU so I did it.
> 
> I've already played Pokemon X but for whatever reason that one just doesn't appeal to me as much. Maybe it's just all the Fairy-types, I prefer Dark and Poison types. I do like the whole little bit about becoming immortal at the end of X though, that's pretty neat.
> 
> I do have team preference headcanons for the guys though and would have included them but I just didn't know how exactly.
> 
> Murdoc likes Dark and Poison types.
> 
> Noodle likes Electric and Fighting.
> 
> Russel doesn't have a type preference but he likes big defense-oriented Pokemon like Snorlax and Aggron.
> 
> 2D has Normal and Fairy types with the sole exception of a Growlithe because he needs a protection buddy, poor guy.
> 
> Reader is ambiguous so you can put anything you want in there.
> 
> Those are just my personal ones, so you don't have to go by those if you don't want to.

If immortality means being hailed as an unwitting hero for the rest of eternity when he really didn’t do anything, 2D isn’t sure he likes immortality.

Sure, it’s cool that the professor had this huge party planned in celebration of their preventing an apocalypse -- invited the whole city, his mum, bailed Murdoc’s brother and dad out of the jailhouse, managed to get Russel’s folks and Dr. Kyuzo from overseas -- but the whole thing is overplayed. Yes, an apocalypse was averted. Yes, he had been there. Yes, he’d been hit with the beam from the big metal flower that now lay beneath Geosenge Town in a pile of rubble. But so had everyone else that had been down there, and they’d done more than he did. Murdoc, Noodle, Russel, and you -- what are you now to him? a girlfriend? (He’s pretty sure that’s what you are, and he scrawls a mental note to never tell Murdoc, ever.) And he would consider Xerneas and Yveltal if he wasn’t pretty certain they were already technically immortal. You had probably helped most out of all of them though, making the plans to keep Xerneas and Yveltal out of Team Flare’s hands and getting everyone out when the place started collapsing and telling him to not pass out like he so desperately wanted to. You should be getting most of the credit, not him. Besides, it’s way past his bedtime, everything is too damn loud, every bit of him is aching -- even bits he didn’t think could ache -- and he just really wants to go back to the hotel and sleep for three days, preferably with you curled up at his side. Speaking of which, maybe you might be willing to go back with him, maybe Noodle too, she’s probably tuckered out from all this excitement.

You had been talking with the really tall guy, AZ, some time ago at an outdoor dining table, very hush-hush sort of stuff, and if he’s still around it should be easy to find him, not many people can get that tall. But there’s no sign of the big man, so 2D resorts to fishing through the crowd for you instead. You’re quite short compared to him, he might lose you and he doesn’t want that. He does manage to find Noodle, who’s nearly asleep on her feet, and scoops her up out of the way of the crowd. She yawns, buries her face against his neck, mumbles something that he’s pretty sure roughly translates to wanting to go to bed. Ah, there you are, still sitting where you had been earlier, staring at the dark purple Ball that sits in front of you on the table. He’s briefly reminded of the identical one sitting against his hip and the warmth and life that pulses from it. From the brief moment he’d touched yours earlier, it had given off nothing but a dark, eerie, depressing feeling, and though he knows Yveltal is probably mostly harmless -- it had been sapped of most of its power so it probably couldn’t kill much anymore and from the playful, childish way it acted earlier it’s likely a baby anyway -- he still thinks it best not to touch it again.

He stumbles his way through the crowd, apologizing at every foot he steps on -- of which there are many -- and sits down with you, Noodle clinging to him so tightly he could probably remove the arm holding her up and she’d still be latched onto his shirt. You’re looking troubled again, just like right before Lysandre had announced that he was planning to end the world -- what was it that Sycamore called it, that weirdy feeling that something bad is going to happen? clairvoyance? He’s pretty sure that’s it. You’ve said it’s happened before then, not for the first time and certainly not the last. He’s pretty sure this one isn’t the last time either.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? Can’t a person just stare broodingly at the single fragile object containing the very epitome of death and destruction without having her motives questioned?” You redirect your gaze from the Ball on the table to him.

“I just worry a bit, ‘sall. You’ve been real moody lately, ever since you caught that fing.” He gestures to the Ball on the table. “Want me to carry it for a bit instead?”

“What? No. It’s not Yveltal. AZ and I were talking earlier and, well…”

“Well, what?”

“He’s been alive for three thousand years, D. He’s seen history repeat itself time and time again, seen the rise and fall of nations and empires countless times. He says what just happened is only a drop compared to the waterfall that is to come.”

“Meaning?”

“Something like this is bound to happen again. Don’t know when, but it’ll bring the whole planet into it. We’re talking cosmic levels of destruction here. It can’t be because of these two.” You gesture to the Ball on the table and the identical one on his belt. “Buddy here’s too weak to be much of a threat, maybe make people sick but not really kill anyone, not directly, and you’re not smart enough to use Xerneas for anything evil.”

He’s not sure if that’s supposed to be praise or an insult.

“Wait, you named it Buddy?”

“Yes.”

“You literally ‘old in your ‘ands the god of deaff an’ destruction, it tried t’kill us under th’ control of an insane genocidal maniac, _an’ you named it **Buddy**?_ ”

“What was I supposed to name him, then?”

“Iunno, summfink less cute.”

“And _Bambi_ is any better for Xerneas?”

“...Point taken.”

“Anyway, what are you here for?”

“I was ‘opin’ you’d come back t’ the ‘otel wiff us. Noodle needs to get in bed ‘cause it’s past ‘er bedtime an’ I’m pretty tired too.”

“Yeah. I could sleep. What about Russel and Murdoc?”

“Russ went to go get summfink t’eat, I fink, an’ Murdoc is...occupied.” He shivers at the image of Murdoc sitting at one of the tables surrounded by women -- and he’s certain a few boys were there too, and he swears he saw one girl crouched underneath the table doing things he doesn’t want to think about. Not an image he wants burned into his frontal lobe, thanks.

You shiver as well and stand to join him. “Right. Well, they can come back whenever, as long as they get the room payments before they’re due. I’m not paying for Murdoc again if he doesn’t bother showing up. Don’t care how much he squawks at me.”

At least it’s not a long walk from the party to the hotel and the rest of the street isn’t crowded, so it doesn’t take long at all to take the lift to get up to Russ’s and Noodle’s floor and get Noodle into her jammies and in bed. Then it’s back in the lift to the next floor to make sure Murdoc at least locked the door, then back down again to the room you two share. Neither of you really minded sharing even before...whatever started going on between you. You liked the company -- 2D has recurring nightmares anyway and having someone nearby keeps him from waking up half the hotel in fright -- and it saved money. Not that you’ll really need to be worried about it for a while at least, judging the huge party and people shoving wads of bills in your face for no apparent reason. But then immortality comes into play and you wonder if one day you might end up like AZ, homeless, penniless wandering giants of people, fed up with the endless monotony of existence.

You wonder if consulting Yveltal about the issue when you finally give it up would be considered assisted suicide.

2D immediately strips to his skivvies and plants face-first in the bed, hardly making a dent in the mattress. He mumbles something into the pillow.

“Come again?”

He lifts his head for a moment. “Takin’ a shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm. Don’ f’get t’keep those stitches from gettin’ wet, love.”

Yeah, the doctor did say that after she got done stitching up the -- thankfully shallow -- gash in your side. All things considering, you’re still surprised it was probably the worst of the injuries any of you had sustained from the whole ordeal, with most of the others being no worse than scrapes and bruises. You guess you could just wash your hair with your head dangling over the shower floor and call it quits to make it easier.

You strip your shirt off to keep it from getting wet and spend a moment staring at the gauze wrapped around your torso, under which lie thirty-seven neat little stitches that run nearly from your shoulder to your hip, wondering how the hell you’re going to manage to wash your hair without your side screaming in agony at being bent over like that, then decide fuck it, you can sleep it off, and grab the shower nozzle.

Your side is in complete agony when you’re done and you unwrap the gauze to change it, an angry red along the wound in places where the stitches yanked your skin -- no blood thank Arceus -- but it’s nothing some more bacitracin and a couple painkillers and some sleep can’t hopefully fix. If only you can find the bacitracin tube.

“D?”

The response is a sleepy mumble. “‘Eah?”

“Where’d you put the bacitracin?”

“Ain’ in there wiff ya?”

“No!”

You hear him rummaging around in his bag before he comes in with the tube, a pair of large cotton swabs, and a roll of gauze. You can tell he’d been on the verge of falling asleep. In the bright light of the bathroom the fading bruises on his shoulders, arms, and back are painfully obvious. “Need ‘elp?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

He sits down on the toilet and dabs the gel on, wraps you back up and heads back to bed with a wide yawn. You throw an old t-shirt on and join him, and you barely get settled before he asks, out of the blue, “So what are we, ezzactly?”

“What do you mean, what are we?”

“I mean, what am I to you? Am I a boyfriend, am I jus’ level 99 friendzoned, what?”

This is going to take a minute. Yes, you’ve been sharing the same bed for weeks now (under varying circumstances), you’ve seen each other naked countless times (under varying circumstances), you’ve gotten raunchy before (for no reason other than to be raunchy, it came packaged with the bed-sharing), but up until that Big Damn Kiss in the hospital that night the world had nearly ended, you’d never really thought anything of it. But it would be kinda cruel to kiss the guy like that and leave him hanging not even a week later. It had been a damn good kiss too.

“I guess we can be a thing? If you want to do it.”

“Okay.” Your answer seems satisfactory enough for him. “Jus’ wanted t’know, so we never ever tell Murdoc ‘bout this, okay?”

“Agreed.”

He curls up against you, mindful of your injured side. “Did you jus’ start finkin’ of the whole immortality fing today, too?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot for a trio of twenty-somethings barely more than kids, a thirty-year-old man, and a kid who doesn’t even know what she wants to do with her life yet to handle. I mean, what are we supposed to do with all that extra time? Could we use it positively and travel, meet new people, help make the world a better place? Become dictators of the world? Solve global hunger and tell no one for laughs?”

“Murdoc would.”

No arguing there.

2D runs his hand over your hip, fingers brushing your thigh. “I want you t’promise me summfink.”

“Yeah?”

“That whole business you were goin’ on ‘bout earlier, that this whole apocalypse fing’ll ‘appen again?”

“Yeah?”

He presses his lips to the top of your head. “F’get ‘bout it. Jus’ for t’night. ‘S jus’ you an’ me in ‘ere an’ nuffin’ outside this room is gonna explode if we don’ gawk at it all day.”

“Okay.”

He’s silent for a moment, resting his chin atop your head and letting his fingers run along the inside of your leg. “One upside t’immortality though.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Eternity of sex, love.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. “Wonder ‘ow many times I can bring you to your knees over th’next forever?”

“If you count mine, can I count yours?”

“I don’ mind.” He latches onto your neck, running his tongue over a sweet spot and making you shiver. “S’long as you don’ mind me startin’ now.”

“You see me complaining?”

He just hums something against your neck as there’s a heavy thumping outside the door and a hard, but polite, knocking. “You two take Noodle to bed?” It’s Russel. You feel 2D smirk as he lets go, crawling down to your hips as his hands meet the waistband of your underwear, tug it downward. Little bastard.

“Yeah.” You have to fight to keep your voice from cracking as his tongue ghosts over you, softly lapping at your exposed sex.

“Where’s Mudz?”

“Do you care?” You feel the nip of teeth as he kisses you and dips in, resist the urge to pap his head to get him to quit but damn it feels good.

“Not really. Jus’ tell him if he won’t show up we ain’t payin’.”

“Gotcha covered.” You bite back a whimper as his tongue strokes and carresses you, waiting until Russel leaves to finally let out a moan. “ _A-ahhhh-asshole!_ ”

“Fought you didn’ like anal,” he purrs as you ensnare your fingers in his hair, gently, tug his head as close as you can. “Change your mind?” Since when did he get so snarky during sex?

“Shut up and put that mouth to other uses.”

He hums his compliance, turns his head a bit for a better angle. In moments you’re a quivering heap of flesh on the bed and he’s brining you back down from your high, licking his lips when he’s done and stretching out beside you again. “One down, infinity t’go.”


End file.
